ANONYMOUS.GOULDING, LONDON. HARRINGTON
Sung at the Public Concerts.
DRINK to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kiss but in the cup,
And I'll look not for wine.
The thirst that from my soul doth rise,
Doth ask a drink divine;
But might I of Jove's nectar sip,
I would not change for thine.
I sent thee late a rosy wreath,
Not so much hon'ring thee,
As giving it a hope that there
It would not wither'd be:
But thou thereon didst only breathe,
And sent it back to me;
Since when it grows and smells, I swear,
Not of itself, but thee.
GOULDING, LONDON.
Sung by Mr Incledon.
CEASE, rude Boreas, blust'ring railer;
List, ye landsmen, all to me;
Messmates, hear a brother sailor
Sing the dangers of the sea!
From bounding billows, first in motion,
When the distant whirlwinds rise,
To the tempest-troubled ocean,
Where the seas contend with skies!
Hark! the boatswain hoarsely bawling,
By top-sail sheets and haulyards stand,
Down top-gallants quick be hauling,
Down your stay-sails, hand, boys, hand!
Now it freshens-set the braces,
The top-sail sheets now let go;
Luff, boys, luff! don't make wry faces;
Up your top-sails nimbly clew.
Now all you on down-beds sporting,
Fondly lock'd in Beauty's arms,
Fresh enjoyments wanton courting,
Safe from all but Love's alarms!
Round us roars the tempest louder;
Think what fear our minds enthrals
Harder yet, it yet blows harder:
Now again the boatswain calls.
The top-sail yards point to the wind, boys;
See all clear to reef each course;
Let the fore-sheet go, don't mind, boys,
Tho' the weather should be worse;
Fore and aft the spritsail yard get,
Reef the mizen, see all clear;
Hands up, each preventure brace set;
Man the fore-yard-cheer, lads, cheer!
Now the dreadful thunder's roaring,
Peal on peal contending clash;
On our heads fierce rain falls pouring,
In our eyes blue lightnings flash;
One wide water all around us,
All above us one black sky;
Different deaths at once surround us:
Hark! what means that dreadful cry?
The fore-mast's gone, cries ev'ry tongue out,
O'er the lee, twelve feet 'bove deck!
À leak beneath the chest-tree's sprung out!
Call all hands to clear the wreck.
Quick the lanyards cut to pieces;
Come, my hearts, be stout and bold;
Plumb the well-the leak increases!
Four feet water in the hold.
While o'er the ship wild waves are beating,
We for wives or children mourn:
Alas! from hence there's no retreating;
Alas! to them there's no return.
Still the leak is gaining on us!
Both chain-pumps are choak'd below:
Heaven have mercy here upon us!
For only that can save us now.
O'er the lea-beam is the land, boys;
Let the guns o'erboard be thrown;
To the pump come ev'ry hand, boys:
See! our mizen-mast is gone.
The leak we've found-it cannot pour fast;
We've lighten'd her a foot or more!
Up, and rig a jury fore-mast:
She rights, she rights, boys-we're off shore.
Now once more on joys we're thinking,
Since kind Heav'n has sav'd our lives:
Come, the can, boys! let's be drinking
To our sweethearts and our wives.
Fill it up,-about ship wheel it;
Close to our lips a brimmer join :
Where's the tempest now; who feels it?
None-the danger's drown'd in wine.
PRESTON, LONDON.
Sung by Mr Kelly.
OH, think on my fate! Once I freedom enjoy'd,
Was as happy as happy could be;
But Pleasure is fled, even Hope is destroy'd,
A captive, alas! on the sea.
I was ta'en by the foe; 'twas the fiat of Fate
To tear me from her I adore;
When thought brings to mind my once happy estate,
I sigh, while I tug at the oar.
Hard, hard is my fate! oh, how galling my chain! My life's steer'd by Misery's chart;
And though 'gainst my tyrants I scorn to complain, Tears gush forth to ease my full heart.
I disdain e'en to shrink, though I feel sharp the lash;
Yet my breast bleeds for her I adore:
While round me the unfeeling billows do dash,
I sigh, and still tug at the oar.
How Fortune deceives! Once I'd Pleasure in tow; The port where she dwelt was in view:
But the wish'd nuptial morn was o'erclouded with
I was hurried, dear Anna, from you.
Our shallop was boarded, and I borne away,
To behold my dear Anna no more!
Despair wastes my spirits, my form feels decay-
He sigh'd, and expir'd at the oar!
WHEN THE MOON, ETC.-DUETT.
ANONYMOUS.GOULDING, LONDON.
Sung at the Newcastle Concerts.
WHEN the moon shines all so bright,
That flow'r-bells open to her light,
Round about the hawthorn tree
We fairies dance right merrily;
And when the fickle beam retires,
What care we-our fickle quires
Around the glow-worm's moving lustre
Still in sportive revels muster,
Merrily, merrily, merrily,
Beneath the hawthorn tree.
So light we tread, no flow'r we crush,
Nor break the deep ear-soothing hush;
You might, so noiseless is our tread,
Hear gossomers o'er flow'rets spread,
Merrily, merrily, merrily,
All 'neath the hawthorn tree.
|